snogeggnog

[snogeggnog]

out fishin’

I haven’t been too busy to write recently, just lazy. I do have exams I have to study for lmao, but who cares about an education. Also experimenting with present tense - it’s different and weird and  feels very odd to me

The light blue door in front of me looks worse for wear. Some rust from the doorknob sticks to my hand when I turn it and push the door open. A rush of cold wind brushes my face. The stairs behind me have fallen away, silently crumbled to dust. I can't turn back now, even if I want to. Not that I really want to. Stepping out, I see a pristine blue sky, peerless and daunting. The sun casts a harsh light on the concrete in front of me. It is bright and pure, but the air is still a bitter cold. That's what I want, though. I know the light blue door behind me has collapsed, crumpled, now completely unusable. With every step I take the floor is turned to dust. I can't turn back. Not now, not ever. Even standing still, I feel like I can watch the paths I might take crumbling away. The sky is perfectly blue and clear, but I can feel it crushing down on me. I don't crouch under the pressure though. That'd be letting outside forces win. I have to be stronger than them. Then it would be me turning to dust. Ideally, I would be higher than this rooftop. From the where I'm standing, I can see other buildings reaching up. But this is okay, I guess. Lost in my thoughts, I hadn't noticed that I'd stopped moving forward. But I noticed now, at least. I feel as though the paths I would have taken had I not looked up were still open to me. I walk forward a few steps, then turn on the balls of my feet. The floor had not turned to dust. The door had not crumpled. And I imagined the stairs had not collapsed, but couldn't see them. Also, I saw two people sitting, dangling their feet off the edge of the roof. I walk over, my feet crunching on the concrete. They barely seem to notice until I am right behind them. Even then, only one turned around. They were an older man, with a trimmed, snow-white beard. He turned to look at me, then patted the ledge next to him. 'Sit,' he said, 'If you want,' His voice was gruff, but not that deep. I hadn't sat, when he continued. 'If you want to get out of your head,' His buddy turned and looked at me, but said nothing before turning back. The wind seems to have no affect on the old blokes. The man who only glanced at me spoke, but kept looking forward. 'You look like you've been nowhere else for a long time,' He spoke softly, just audible over the wind. He laughs softly, still staring directly ahead. While the man laughed, my hands darted to my face, feeling over the stubbly beard and tangible bags under my eyes. They are right: I had been in my own head for too long. I have things to do, I think, and taking a break now isn't going to make things better. Even so, I sit next to the bearded man. My feet dangle over the heads of pedestrians, so far below. I watch them for a while, then turn to the blokes. It's only now that I notice the fishing poles they are holding. The bearded man turns slightly, but keeps his eyes on the line hanging down. I can't see where the hook is, peering down along the line which is swinging gently in a small breeze. The bitter gusts of wind had died down. The bearded man speaks quietly. 'If you want to cast - just say,' He pauses. 'But casting might not be the best idea for you,' I look straight ahead at the office building on the other side of the road. Through the windows, there are people sitting and typing, some walking and talking, others sleeping at their desk. 'Let him,' The other man says, 'Everyone's gotta learn at some point,' 'Orright,' The bearded man leaned back, and grabbed another fishing pole that was resting on the ground. He looks at me and smiles, holding out the rod. Despite having no intention to "cast", I took it. 'Like throwing a fishing line out,' the bearded man mimed the motion. His motion was remarkable in that it seemed to have weight; be affected by momentum. It was many, many years since I last fished, but the motion feels natural and smooth as I throw a hookless line. Casting brought back memories of the lake, and Dad. At the thought, calming chills run down my spine. I sigh and close my eyes. When I open them, the air seems thicker, and sweeter. There's no water, but I can see my reflection as though there was. My legs are cold, strangely. The air ripples, only slightly though, as I pull my legs up. Crossing my legs, I gently knock the man sitting next to me. 'Welcome,' He says, 'It's a lovely home you've got here,' I open my mouth to say something, but I draw a blank. Leaving my jaw hanging, it dawns on my that I had yet to say something to these men. Both the bearded man and his friend laugh. His friend speaks through the chuckling: 'Bit much, isn't it,' They laugh some more and turn back to their fishing rods. I close my eyes again. The air is still thick and sweet when I open them, but there is no reflection and no ripples. Shadows seem to be cast on the empty air. From the silhouettes, there's shrubbery and grass. The line hangs below where the shadows sit. They sway gently in a light breeze. I stare at the shadow, trying to understand what was happening when it felt as though I had an itch. An itch in my head. In my mind. I rub my face, but that doesn't satiate the itch. Not that I expected it to. The itch is slowly growing in my mind, I can feel it behind my eyes. The air is losing the sweetness, and the thickness. I close my eyes tightly, and stand. I hear the fishing pole fall. The strong winds returned, and the bitter cold was back. Very cautiously, I step back, but stumble still. I fall back onto the roof and call out. My eyes open, reflexively, when I land on my back. I stand, and see the two men turned to face me, but still sitting. I manage to stammer: 'What t-the fuck,' The men look concerned, and the bearded one speaks, sounding as concerned as well. 'You started losing yourself, I think,' He exclaims. 'Don't worry about it, you handled it better than my first time,' his friend says, sounding slightly calmer. I don’t reply, only turn around to face the door I walked out from. My back is sore from the fall. My mind no longer itches, but feels empty because of it. I have shit to do, why did I let myself get distracted? I think, angrily, as I hurry back inside.

[snogeggnog]

consuming not-passions

Hello again to my two followers, you guys are cool, keep up the good work. Sorry for the dead page-ness recently, uni has been all consuming

This was just some stream of consciousness writing, I need to warm up the creativity engine so I can keep writing more. Also if you get the reference in the title, that’s neat I couldn't think of a title at all.

I wanted to try and be a little ~experimental~ with this so sorry if that didn’t pan out. Oh and as always its got the one-line-per-sentence formatting again - i don’t know why i like it so much. Hope you enjoy

Keep your head down dipshit. Don't move, keep quiet. The slugger in my left hand is getting heavier every moment. 'Jeremica, come out! We don't want to hurt you,' Liar. Fucking liar. When he speaks, I only try and huddle down more. Leaning on the balcony fence. Hoping my head doesn't poke up above. 'All we have is a disagreement, my boy,' Yeah and coddled against mt torso is that disagreement. It glows in waves. Shit, I hope its not too bright to catch their attention. 'Jeremi-ca, please, youre only wasting time, we mean no harm!' All this waiting is making me antsy. I worry that I can't sit still. 'Jer, please, we can talk it out, please!' I don't know if his temper is shorter or mine, but I know I have a short wick. If he knows what button to push, I don't know if I'm going to survive. The most I can do is hope he doesn't know it. 'It's just a fucking arguement you pussy!' He's just hurling insults. If I stay and watch the door, I can get the drop on him if he comes. Just keep fucking down and quiet.

My leg hurts. No. More than that. Unsurprising, really, theres a fucking hole in it. Suprising, I was walking across a dusty plain. It hurt, and the slugger in my left hand was heavier than before. I dont know why I was carrying as I limped towards somewhere. The pain was getting too much but I kept walking. It reached a point where I was wondering what the pain was 'too much' for. Focus was difficult but it kept my mind off the hole in my leg. But I just thought about it. And I've noticed the pain again. I try to distract myself again, think about my cargo. Coddled against my torso as I limp towards a destination unknown to me. A rock that glows and pulses softly. A soft purple light bathes me as a travel. How long I walked, that was something that only time knew. Eventually a little dome sat in my way. It was then I decided that the pain was 'too much' for walking. I sat and leant back on the dome. Still holding the slugger. The glowing rock was still firmly pressed into my torso. I wasn't going to let that fall. It wasn't talking ot me, that was shock. And well, if I thought this rock was talking, well we'd be in a little fuckimg mess, wouldn't we? Despite the burning pain growing from my leg, I chuckle. But there I go again, the pain is there. It is growing and that is not good. I don't look down at the hole that I know is there. Or is it not there? It is a hole, an absence of thing - so is it there or is it not. Once again, I chuckle, sitting where I was, slumped backwards on this little dome. I think about the pain again, but not the whole because that made me feel confused. If the pain is growing, does that mean the whole is growing? Or... the nothingness grows - eats things? No. fuck off. Stop. My leg WONT fall off that. Nothingness can't do that. My leg can be eaten by the nothingness, I will lose it as the pain grows. I don't know where it will go, but I am losing this leg. It will be vacuumed into the nothingness. It's not falling off. It wont. shut up. It wont fall off. No, I don't know what will happened. but its not going to fall off. shut up. please. stop

no you arent talking to me its a rock rocks cant talk i still have my leg. i do. I have to prove this. No. Fuck off, shut up. Fuck off. Turn the light off. Again, despite the burning nothingness of pain in my leg, I laugh. Leant back on the dome. I know the pain is there, where the leg isn't. But the leg is there. I can ignore the pain. I can stand I have to prove. I do. On my feet, the little dome that was my anchor had served its purpose. The rock in my arm was the opposite of an anchor. It was teasing, pulling and poking the nothingness. Even though it couldn't talk. No. It can't. You can't. stop. its fucking talking. stop please fuck fuck fuck

fuck off. stop. stop fucking now. Before i realise, the rock is in both my hands. I realise when the slugger that was in my left hand drops the floor. For an instant, I am snapped. Awake, and strong and painfree. The glow speaks to my eyes and voice that is not my own speaks in my head. But I am lost in a fog again. Before I realise for a second time, my arms are swinging down, taking the rock with them. I realise when the world becomes solid. Everything is rock and concrete. A sound is reverberating in my ears. A tinkling, crashing scream. A vision is burnt into my eyes - I can describe, but not explain. A single image, a dusty sandy vision, with a rock and a crystal, shattered. The crystal is purple and in tiny pieces flying at me. I blink, in an effort to lose this image. It fades, but not enough. Transparent, but still visible. Through it I see concrete and grey and rock and people. I look down at my leg, the nothingess is still there. or not there now isnt time to laugh. the people are not stopping. blood drips from the nothingness onto the floor. through the nothingness, i look through the image and to the bloody grey beneath me. why dont the people. I try and quell the anxiety building in me at the people. They have places to be, and probably all working. they have jobs. For the first time i notice the sounds. The crashing scream has ended but I can still hear it, reverberating in my minds ear. But the sounds I hear are not there. The sounds hitting my ears are nothing. I hear only silence. i open my mouth and before i can say anything, vomit falls. i fall. the nothingness eats everything as i close my eyes but i wont die. I refuse Death is not for me today. With eyes shut, I feel through the slick of blood and spew and push myself up, The hole in my leg is there and the nothingness is eating away at the skin at the edge of the hole. And it hurts. More than that. I clench my fists and from them, tiny purple crystals tinkle to the floor. Then I realise my eyes are open again. I'm standing tall. I close my eyes and smile slightly. The nothingness stopped. The hole is gone. Again I collapse but fall from the grey concrete into a hospital bed. I feel like vomiting again, and do, into bucket that was sitting next to the bed. I dont recognise this place, but feel safe Looking at the bed, there is blood, where the hole would be. I release my grasp from the bucket and see purple stained into my right hand. The door opens. And through it walks an elderly white man, face heavily tattooed. He shuffles over, with a soft smile. 'Now,' he speaks calmly and slowly, 'We shouldn't have had to do this, but now? We can only apologise. From within the vest he was wearing, the elderly man procures a long and jagged dagger. And from behind him, a shapeless hole in my vision clutches the blade and with no mercy rips into the felsh of my wrist. It cuts and cuts and cuts and yanks and pulls. All I can do is scream as the hand is pulled free from me. The elderly man looks over at me, with sorowful look in his eyes, and it seems in all the tattoos on his head. They were all watching. I lose all hope as the nothingness creeps from behind me and consumes my sight once again. I feel all the needles in my arm i dont feel my arm i dont see i dont think i dont

[snogeggnog]

wack history

The events that are revealed in this are heavily inspired by a Dungeons-and-Dragons-cross-Europa-Versalis-type game me and a group of friends tried to play

The man who stood before me wasn't the man that stood over us in the posters and pictures and pamphlets. He looked so much older here. Not wiser, but tired. Waiting to die I supposed. It seemed he was trying to decrease his time left, puffing heavily on a cigarillo, leaving a thin fog of tobacco smoke encompassing him. With the light behind him, Luca Grain had a godly glow. He had even tricked the sun for his own gain. He looked up at me, slowly and carefully. Snubbing the tobacco cigarette into a small ceramic tray, he spoke, as carefully as he moved. 'Don't believe the glow, boy.' his voice was gruff, and low, 'nothing godly about me,' Luca was correct in his introspection, at least I had been taught to read using the old politcal pamphlets. No end to those flapping about the streets. They cast him as some grand villian, some schemiing liar. Always plotting a conniving plan. 'You're new right?' I was, 'Where are you from, boy?' The question caught me off guard and I stammered: 'Oh, from Galatia,' and hurriedly: 'Sir,' The smouldering tray became his focus. 'Don't give me that "sir" shit. Not worthy of it,' He mumbled. 'Regional or the country,' 'Oligoth's regional Galatia, Greth town, sir,' and hurriedly: 'Sorry,' Grains grunted and sat down. He appeared as a god would - bathed in light, gowned in white, sitting stone-faced. Why he had taken such a chat to me, I didn't understand. Whatever, I was being paid hourly. 'Greth, hmm?' He repeated. It was just quiet enough for me to think he had been talking to himself. Again, he slowly looked at me. 'I can only apologise for the consequences,' He spoke clearly, and with compassion, but there was no bravado in his voice. While I knew the pamphlets villified him, this was nothing like my expectations of the man. 'What do you know of my transgressions, boy?' He was looking away, with the same wooden expression. It was too early in the morning to be talking history. No matter how modern. But, I humoured him - he must have known how the public percieved him. 'The leader of the Reformists, you undercut the Monarchy and helped the Regionalists secede,' I had an interest in the local area's history. Until I learned how bloody it became so quickly. 'Anything else?' Luca honestly seemed disappointed. 'Clearly,' My guts flipped in my stomach; talking this candidly with an old politician? Thats working to get yourself killed. Nonetheless, I continued, 'You knew the Regionalist's country wouldn't stand against any pressure from the Republic of Oligoth,' 'Pah! Son, you know less than you think. We caused the Oligoth annexation,' It was almost as though he had laughed, 'did you think that election was fair?' On the corner of his lips, I thought I saw a smile flicker. 'We made the rumours that it was going to be rigged, then got the moderating Oligoth emissary to rig it so the Regionalists got what they wanted,' He sounded almost ashamed. 'They rewarded us for such villiany with the funds to end the financial crisis, and we prevented Regionalist violence in our Galatia,' This was a lot of information to dump on a door guard, I thought, but Luca Grain continued. 'I remember the celebrations - in this tower - "violence not in Galatia is not in our concern," we laughed.' He was clearly ashamed. That steely mask of an expression was cracking. 'Non-violent only in name. We weren't as bad as the Monarchy, we were so much worse,' He hung his head. 'Our self-congratulations didn't even end when the news of our faux-allies hangings arrived,' Through the thin fog, twinkling golden, a tear fell. 'Even when those that were Galatians mere days ago were being slaughtered...' He trailed off. I was lost for words, but my horse's ass of a mouth fumbled something out: 'This will not leave these walls, sir,' I mumbled. Luca looked up at me. He gestured at me - what he meant, I was unsure. 'I don't care, the people hate me already, with reason. Give them more, that their anger will kindle their sense of right and wrong,' Trails down his face glinted yellow sunlight. 'Sir, I am sorry,' I stammered, unsure of what to do. 'Chrissake's boy, have you not seen I am not worthy of anything other than hatred?' He mumbled. Nerves overtook and I recalled one of the proverbs of Oligoth's holy book. 'People brimming with anger rarely learn,' I said, like a churchboy again - reciting the asinine readings of a book my parents did not even follow. The Rat of the Castle, Luca Grain, looked to me. 'Do you really think there is anything left to learn other than the depravity possible of man?' He didn't sound angry. He sounded conceited. 'Is that really something that should be learnt anyway?' He asked me. Another tear fell from his face. The Rat of the Castle, Luca Grain, Leader of the Reformist Party, was blamed for the downfall of his mighty kingdom, and had taken it truthfully. There was some solace to such an evil man knowing the inhumanity he had shown. But watching him, the pain so clear and so open, it was difficult to not sympathise with this monster. Even the stone bricks around him arched over him, caging him. He seemed to believe that no punishment was great enough for the atrocities he had committed. Maybe this anguish was his true punishment.

[snogeggnog]

something darker

this has been stuck in my brain for the past few days - wanted to get it written down.

i push the filter mask over my mouth. the concrete curb is hard on my ass, but i dont move. this is one of the few times in recent times i get to see the night sky. it was more stunning than it had been in old times. pricks of light spewed across the dome. there were more here than there ever used to be, i thought. that was untrue. there always have been the same amount. id heard people find looking into the night sky too daunting, overwhelming. too much was implied by the tiny spots of light. too big. too far away. too long ago, these tiny lights were actually lit. people found the fact these stars were dead intimidating. id heard those people preferred the blue sky. i wonder how those people would feel now, if they were to sit next to me. i found it calming these days. before, it was just beauty. these days, the reminder that even the giant balls of gas extinguish. even they die. i wonder if the fact that earth was nearing its final days would change the day-lovers perspective. a calming reminder that all that lives must die. and that that fact is okay. entropy is unstoppable, its force neither benevolent or malevolent. it just was. although its conequences were terrifying, it wasnt evil. the silence out here was uncomfortable. i used to relish in the silence. actually no, i used to relish in the un-sound moments. brief snatches of quiet trhoughout the day. i have fond memories of night-time stillness, in between the fuzz-sound of the city. i yearned to hear that sound of living. the soundtrack to a city. had i not been a city boy, and had a country childhood, i may have been more accustomed to the silence. i dont think anyone could get used to this silence, fully. there was nothing. no birds, no rats, no engines in the distances. this pure silence was the sound of death. the all encompassing, suffocating silence of death. earth was in final waning moments. it had been for a long while. the filter beeped loudly. not long now. for all i knew, the universe was ending with the planet beneath me. the nights sky was terrifying and calming all at once. it would have that complete silence of death. but death isnt something to be so scared of, as those long dim pin-pricks of light told us. actually, me. just, me.

[snogeggnog]

My life is just a constant journey to seek warmth. No metaphor. I mean like coats and jackets. Getting under the sheets and standing under heat lamps. Soup.

[snogeggnog]

Cyber Punk-y stuff

I watched the cyberpunk 2077 trailer and couldnt help getting hyped. Felt like writing this.

'Get the fuck behind that building,' Her eyes were frantic. Sclera with the cream of aged ivory contrasted with pitch black pupils. No irises. 'Move, you fuckwit,' She hissed. We moved, behind a concrete monolith. 'They didn't see us, and theres only two of them,' I shot back. We could take out two. Easily. We already had taken out many pairs. 'One of them has a e-synapse jammer,' 'Yeah, we hit him first,' 'Are you fucking retarded, its broad daylight,' 'You have those legs for reason,' Childish stubbornness on my part. 'He vaguely points that thing in our direction- both of us are fried!' She was right. Looking back, she was entirely in the right. In the moment, I was convinced we could take them on. But Ammi won by yanking me futher into the shadow. She pushed into the darkness, though alley ways and around corners. I followed, closely. The warm weather was sticky humid. The thin pants i wore were a good choice. Briskly, we walked further into darkness. We passed no one. This area had been emptied out. Evacuated. It was being cleaned. Some pretend plague had struck. Pest control, in reality. The silence was almost suffocating. The crunch of dirt on ashpalt under our shoes were the only things I could hear. We slunk around the dark, disturbing nothing other than the ground. Every alleyway intersection we reached we cleared, looking down the intersecting road then walking past. At first. Time was running thin. We needed to reach the old hub fast. Unexpected patrols had slowed us down. 'Hey!' Like this one. Ammi gasped and slunk behind a generator. I spun on the heels of my shoes. 'Hello,' I spoke slowly and shakily, raising my arms. It was only one 'cleaner', somewhat down the alley. I interlocked my fingers and rested them on the base of my skull. I flicked my thumb over a raised bump in the skin of my neck. 'No need to do that,' the patroller called back. The LED on his shoulder reflected off of the smooth black steel helmet he wore. 'Okay' I lowered my arms to my side. 'This suburb is restricted. Head back now,' He was still walking towards us. 'Oh, oh is it, a-a friend of mine said to meet him here,' 'He was lying. No one is supposed to be here,' the patrollers voice was deep, commanding, 'Virus,' He carried a heavy looking assault rifle. It sat, slightly bouncing on the kevlar mesh suit of the company soldier. Things were taking longer than they should have. He stopped in his tracks and rasied the rifle to eye level, quickly. 'Who's that,' He jerked the gun to where Ammi was hidden. 'She-she's my girlfriend,' I stammered. 'Look at me!' he shouted at Ammi. To pull attention back to me I yelped. 'Dont!' His rifle swung back to me, 'she- shes got anxiety, an attack will just make her sick, please,' The patrolman kept the rifle trained on my head. I could feel sweat dripping down my forhead. 'Walk,' the command was followed by Ammi and I. We turned back the way we came, Ammi being careful to not let the patroller see her clearly. he followed us, not too closely. he didnt take the exact route. Ammi kept slightly ahead of me and I was able to follow her lead. Until I felt a click in my brain. A tiniest switch. Couldnt explain how it felt if i tried. I tripped on a stone, on purpose. 'Walk!' the patroller wasnt coming closer. Fuck. Time to try this. From a belly down position, I pushed up, onto my feet which i then used to spin to face the patroller. He was startled, and had stopped aiming at me or Ammi whlie we walked. One chance. While he was raising his gun, I kicked the stone at him, missing completely. Ammi took the opportunity to pounce, using her metallic muscles to reach the patroller in one leap. In the air, she procured a shiv and gracefully glided towards the armed man with point outstretched. She landed on her mark, and stabbed him in the gut. Trying to miss anything vital, and holding him down. She smashed the helmet, exposing his face. I arrived at the patrolmans body moments later. With precision uncharacteristic of me, I yanked off the metal covering that sat behind the thin kevlar fiber of his suit. In a small port, just below the solar plexus, sat what i was looking for: company locator. A device, like the USBs of yesteryear, but on a right angle downwards to make the design more space-efficient and ergonomic. Quickly, i pulled it out of the plug and scrunched up my left sleeve. With no more than a split second, I had plugged the device back into a port, on my arm. A blinking strip of light on the locator didnt miss a beat. The patrolman gargled angrily, and Ammi retorted with a swift punch to the nose. She then quickly replaced the shiv into his neck. No more gargling. Panting, I stumbled back a building and sat down, resting on it. My head ached from the sudden movement and the new locator device. Ammi dragged the body to a skip dumpster and placed him in and closed it. 'That was much longer than before, Tauno,' Ammi was stern. 'Yeah, its getting overwhelmed. I don't think its going to be able to work next time.' The terminal chip in my arm was able to detect the locators path and predict where the soldier was going to be told where to go. Even if he didnt. It would then send false GPS info back into the system, and according to the monitor, nothing was up. But it was doing this hundreds of times a second, for three locators now. To maintain a steady speed of data falsification and transmition, the chip needed to slow all its other processes down. With no more time to spare we headed off.

The altercation had happened a lot closer to the hub than I had thought. We entered the old mall thorugh a back entrance. Had looting not occured, the glass of the door may not have been shattered, preventing our entrance. We just had to hope that the looters hadn't found what we were looking for. The smooth white ceramic tiles reflected the small amount of light bouncing in from the street. The sun was setting. We had been out here too long. We found the old staff door. It wasn't hidden, a deep green against the harsh white of the tiles. The door was dented and handle looked like someone had taken a few serious attempts at breaking it. Ammi walked up and gently tried the handle. Nothing. She looked back with a little smirk, 'Had to give it a shot,'. The door was fucked beyond a keycards use. But not beyond mechanical limbs. Looters rarely had metal arms or legs. Police and company soldiers would be swarming the hotspots - getting caught stealing AND being a 'borg? That was most certainly doom. While not illegal to be a cyborg, it was illegal to go to backstreet bodyshops. And nobody I or Ammi knew could afford half decent legal metal. Ammi made scrap metal of the door, giving it a hearty boot at the latch. It loudly clanged agaisnt a matte grey steel wall. We were deep enough in the mall that stealth wasnt a matter. Just had to be sure that we were quick was all. Down three doors, stairs on the left and second door on the right. This door was open anyway. That was worrying, but could also have meant nothing. We entered the old hub. My hand were held in tight fists, Ammi kept her shiv hidden, but still within a split second's grab. A soft buzzing from one of the corners, let us know the place was powered. Evacuated suburbs were always cut from the power grid. Soft blue light from screens washed over us as we searched the aparmtent sized area. It was the hub for all activities we used to do - illicit or not. Seeing it not busy with people was odd. 'I found the safe, would code be in here?' Ammi said. 'Surely not,' I snorted. 'now we need a "Construct",' That was the next item on our list that Ammi had written. She gave it a short description as well. It was a small box, with a few switches on a face with a small lens, sitting on one of the higher shelves on the wall. 'I got it,' I said Out of curiosity, I flicked one of the switches. Out of the lens, some light bled. Looking in, the box certainly seemed bigger than its physical form. A thin grid of blue lines seemed to be about half a metre away inside the box. In front of that was a flickering wireframe of a blank face. This was old tech for sure. I called Ammi over and stood her about half a metre away and looked through the box. Disappointingly it didn't scan her face. Ammi laughed when I told her what I tried. She grabbed the machine and flicked the other switches around and peered into box. Standing static, I noticed her finger sliding around on one of the other faces of the box. She looked up from the box and blinked a couple times at me, 'It's old tech, but check it,' She paused, proudly, 'I used some of these before,' I may have snatched it back, but I was engrossed with the idea of this old machinery. Instead of a blank face, it seemed to show a specific face, who's; I couldn't say. There was some log of speech to the right of the face. Ammi snatched it back before I could read and looked in for a few moments. 'It says if we hook it up, it knows the code to the safe,' 'How,' I was in disbelief 'It's kinda like an AI, it knows some stuff,' We hooked it up and it opened the safe. Inside sat our riches. A shit ton of cocaine, some MDMA and a small amount of heroin. But behind that was a small mountain of speed - street gold. We were rich. As long as no one else came looking for the goods.

[snogeggnog]

[snogeggnog]

some writing

apologies for grammar/ spelling/ formatting, this was done on notepad at first.

On the ocean surface, i saw a cigarette floating on, so gently. Only a nub, just the filter. Here was so little sound and so little to even see. My shoes on the jetty's wood. The oh-so quiet lapping of water on the posts. There was only a subtle shade of difference between the sky and the sea. It was late enough that no fishermen were angling down at the end. That was good for me. Good for what i wanted right now. Brief snatch of quite solitude. Solidtude was to... upstanding of word for it. Loneliness was a better fit, but it was too sad. Loneliness, but not bad. Some quiet time. Some me time. Some way down the shore, i could see a pin prick of light. Must have been some anglers, still anglin. Or asleep. Sleeping off the booze. If i really strained, i couldnt even hear the music. That made me feel nice. No one knew i was here. Probably, no one cared. There was some solace to take in that. I had reached the end of the jetty, and had sat. There was nothing to see. There was nothing to hear. There was something to feel: a brisk cold breeze. There was some solace in that too. The cigarette had probably been washed up on shore now, to be eaten by some dog. In the morning. Not now. Now was the time for quiet. Thoughts were tumultuous and shot through too fast to be thought about. I wasnt moving, but my heart rate wasnt dropping. Whether that was emotional or just a consequence of a sedentary lifestyle, to be Decided. Easy to blame it on the emotions. But most likely not true. Soon, I would wear on myself, and i would long for the numbing cacophony of city. Or that near quiet of the 'burbs. To be somewhere where life would be too much. Too loud. Too stressful. So i wouldnt be left alone with my thoughts. These deep dark beings that dont go. Tumeric stains in my mind; easily covered, but so very hard to remove. So deep, so clever, *so misunderstood*. So surface level. It was moments like these i had learned to take the piss of myself. As much as these were true, they did sound mighty pretentious. The sight of the ocean and the jetty and the pin prick of lantern light had worked. For now, things were calm and quiet and the world might have ended that night But i would have been okay. Not regret-less and fully accepting of the ending, but,also, not feeling like shit. Sitting so calmly, i felt myself walking again. Faintly, i could hear the sound of rubber soles on aged wood. This wasnt a uncommon occurrence, so i neednt not look around, back there or right here. It had broken the magic of the moment however, and in response to this Shattering of a silent moment, i opened my phone. At once i felt both the hand on my shoulder, and the shoulder in my hand. In a sense similar to deja vu, not touch. 'I wouldnt do that,' i heard. And had said. I was right, this view was gorgeous. 'What, did she upload a picture?' i said. And had heard. I felt myself nod. 'It couldnt hurt to see,' i said, as i looked over the quietly oscillating water. 'You'd think,' i said, looking down, seeing myself sitting. I turned, and saw myself watching me. I looked up from the sitting me, and sat down next to him. I didnt say, or hear anything said. I knew him well enough and hed have to have known me at least enough. I decided enough was enough and i had been sad for long enough. I felt another twinge of loneliness, and felt it echo through the other me, and back at me. I didnt want to tear my eyes from the horizon. Tonight had been enough. I felt and deja vu heard rubber soles on aged wood as i walked off. That feeling of 'comfort' and content with myself had been tainted, with a sting of a new lonliness. I knew the world wasnt ending, but if it did, at least shit would be over. I kept walking down the jetty. Until the uncomfortable 'double-ness' ended. Some inter-dimensional bleed, what else would top off a shit night.